


Dad's Spaghetti

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Bourbon - Freeform, Daughter!Reader - Freeform, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fred Astaire - Freeform, Gen, Old Movies, Reader-Insert, Spaghetti, Top Hat, Wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 08:46:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15409299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	Dad's Spaghetti

Following in the famous David Rossi’s footsteps was no joke. Much to your father’s dismay, you wanted to be a member of the Bureau, hopefully serving on the same team as your dad until he decided to finally retire and chill out for a bit. Something told you that wasn’t going to happen for a while.

Either way, the qualifications necessary in this day and age to be considered a top tier candidate for a Bureau position were astronomical. All you did was study and work and study and work some more. Occasionally you got to sleep. More often than not you were actually a coffee-fueled zombie in order to get to class, but finals had just ended so you were free for a glorious two weeks and your dad had insisted you come home and take a much-needed rest.

Walking into the palatial house would’ve felt empty to many, but to you it was home, especially with that lovely smell wafting from the kitchen. “Hey, kiddo!” He called out. He was cooking. Of course, he was cooking. When David Rossi wasn’t working, he was cooking, reading, buying paintings or indulging in aged bourbon - you inherited the taste for bourbon from him. You were sure. What other college student liked 50-year-old bourbon?

“Hey Dad!” You called back, strolling into the kitchen at the pace your very tired body would allow. “Do I smell spaghetti bolognese?”

His signature dish.

“Only the best for my little warrior. I’m sure you’ve been downing macaroni and cheese every night.” He turned his nose up at the thought, but you weren’t taking handouts from your dad. He paid your tuition, which he’d insisted on, but you returned with the fact that you’d pay for room and board. It was the least you could do. Given all the running around, food wasn’t your priority. 

“I have and it smells amazing,” she said. Being home, the food being prepared before her and the nickname she’d been given as a child all warmed her from the inside out. “I can’t wait for some real food.”

As he stirred in the last of the ingredients and let them sit, he walked around to the barstool you were seated on and wrapped his arms around you. “How’s school?”

“Killing me slowly. I barely sleep, but hey I’m getting straight A’s, so-” You cut yourself off and held two thumbs up with a smile on your face. 

Your father kissed the top of your head and returned to his beloved pasta. “You should get some sleep.”

“I need the grades.”

“You have the grades.”

“Because I study my ass off.”

“Even if you didn’t, you’d still have good grades.”

“I need great for the Academy,” you said exasperatedly. “Good won’t cut it.”

“You have me. You’re practically already hired.”

You knew as much. Your dad’s reputation paved a lot of road for you that you never had the chance to pave for yourself. “I know that,” you replied, “But I want to at least believe I’ve earned it too. And if my grades suck, I’ll just feel like it was handed to me because of you, and not because of anything I did.”

Across the counter, he heaved an enormous sigh. It was something he couldn’t help - his reputation - but he still felt guilty. “Just…take care of yourself please. You won’t get into the Academy if you die from sleep deprivation.”

Ok, he had a point there. “I’ll work on it.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

Turning off the stove, he plated up two enormous dishes of spaghetti bolognese and poured two glasses of red wine. Granted you weren’t of drinking age, but he trusted you and you had no interest in more than one or two at a time. “What should we watch tonight?”

“Hmmm,” you thought. Your dad had a bunch of old movies and it was kind of tradition that you watch them together. “How about Top Hat?”

“Fred Astaire? That’s my girl. I wish I had that one on actual film.” He did have two Fred Astaire greats on film roll, but Top Hat wasn’t one of them.

As he popped the DVD into the player, you sunk back into the couch and slurped up some of your spaghetti. One of the noodles flipped up into your mouth and left your cheek with a string of sauce that made your dad snort. “I can’t take you anywhere. Always were a mess.” He handed you a napkin and then proceeded to the do the same to himself. “Dammit.”

“Smooth dad.”

“Shhhhhh.” That’s what he always dead when he was caught being a snarky pain the butt. 

You giggled under your breath as the studio logo popped up on the screen. It was these kinds of nights that you cherished most. The familiar soundtrack of the movie, the mixing scents of red wine and spaghetti sauce, the comfortable couch and the best father you could ask for kept you grounded. Becoming a member of the Bureau was for yourself as much as him, but it was nothing without this as your foundation.


End file.
